Cooking Lessons
by spqr
Summary: Kirsten gets a birthday present from Ryan.
1. Default Chapter

Cooking Lessons

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to borrow them sometimes.

A/N: Kirsten and Ryan, together or separately, are my favorite characters. This was part of my hiatus assignment from the wonderful TWoPers with whom I'm priviledged to share lots of wonderful discussions and analyses. Special props to Wolfie, who came up with the idea during a discussion about potential Chrismukkah presents.

When Kirsten entered the kitchen on the morning of her 40th birthday, she wasn't in the best of moods. _40 is not old_, she told herself, _it's just...not young. Come on, it's not like you're about to be shipped off to a nursing home any time soon. What's the big deal? It's just a number, and I'm good with numbers. I can do this._

"Happy Birthday, mom!" Seth threw his arms around her excitedly, almost knocking her off her feet. When had he gotten so tall? She looked over his shoulder to see Sandy and Ryan, side by side, holding coffee cups in identical postures and grinning like a pair of maniacs. Seth stepped back and, with a flourish, presented her with a small, prettily wrapped box.

"It's from me and dad, but Ryan helped pick it out...I didn't know what to get you, I was desperate and Ryan suggested we go down to Laguna Beach and see what we could find...I was gonna get you another robe from Nordstrom's but...and dad was thinking about...well, honestly, I don't know _what_ dad was thinking, but...Ryan already had his own present for you, which you'll get in a minute, but he totally had this cool idea for us...and then we found it..." Seth was babbling as she unwrapped the box and opened it, to find nestled within a small, delicate, filligree brooch dotted with semi-precious stones the exact blue color of her eyes. It was the same one that had caught her eye in the window of the little gallery a few months ago. Something, she thought at the time, that she would have worn in a different life.

"Oh, Seth, boys...it's beautiful! Thank you..." Visions of her younger self flitted through Kirsten's mind. Thunderstruck at her first Art History lecture, the first time she had seen true beauty, the design of the universe encapsulated in a small pencilled drawing. Head back, hair tossing in the wind, scarves flying as Sandy twirled her around and around the quad. Rushing to class after a late night at that blues club in North Beach, clutching the coffee that Sandy had gotten up early to fetch for her. The mad happiness of finally saying, "Yes! Yes!" to his oft-repeated question. The night Seth was born...the dimness of the hospital room, the pain, until finally she heard Sandy say, in a thick tone that she had never heard before, "Ohhhh...honey, look, look, look at our son!" She felt a sharp pang that she recognized as a sort of mourning for the loss of that girl, and vowed to herself that she would wear the brooch every chance she got. Give the ladies something to talk about! Kirsten Cohen wearing semi-precious stones! _Quelle scandale_! 

"Ryan's got a present for you too, mom, and it's one that I hope we will all be sharing in in the near future because it's about time, and we all deserve it, and…"

"Seth, shut up! You're going to ruin it," Ryan warned, as he stepped forward and handed her a small envelope. She raised an eyebrow at him quizzically and opened it, pulling out a sheet of heavy cardstock that read:

This card is redeemable for 

cooking lessons

from 

Chef Ryan Atwood

__

grilled cheese a specialty

Cooking lessons? She raised her eyes from the card and looked at Ryan, who raised his eyebrows slightly as if to say, _"Well? I'm game if you are."_ She blinked slowly, hearing Seth babbling something in the background about old dogs and new tricks, and Sandy admonishing him with, "Seth, your mother is neither old nor a dog…"

"Cooking lessons? I, Ryan, sweetie…that's so thoughtful, but I…" She couldn't remember the last time she'd undertaken an activity for which she was so woefully ill-prepared, and the thought of it made her more than a little nervous. She saw something move behind Ryan's eyes, then, a flicker of disappointment, maybe a little bit of shame, and it broke her heart. "That sounds wonderful! I…I can't promise you'll make a cook out of me, Chef Ryan," Seth snorted and buried his nose in his coffee cup, "but at least you're willing to try." She turned around in mock indignation and shook her finger at Sandy, "Which is more than I can say about some people in this kitchen!" 

Sandy laughed, hands up, palms out in a conciliatory gesture and said, "Honey, honey…all I said was that Thanksgiving wasn't the day for you to learn! Today's not Thanksgiving! I even changed the batteries in the smoke detector for you! And Seth programmed the fire department number into the speed dial! We support you, honey, you know that!" As he and Seth passed by Ryan on his way out of the kitchen, Sandy whispered, just loud enough for her to hear, "You're a better man than I am, son. Just press *4 if there's an accident…"

Ryan had been following this exchange with his eyes, and as the kitchen emptied his gaze rested on hers again. "You sure you want to do this? 'Cause, I just thought…I mean, we can skip it if you want…"

Kirsten laughed then, feeling strangely lightheaded and adventurous, and said, "I should be asking you that question, Chef Ryan! Feeling brave today?"

"Brave enough, I guess…" and he gave her one of his rare, true smiles.

Seth burst into the kitchen again and said, "Oh wait, I forgot! Dad and I have another present for you…actually, we got one for Ryan, too. It just might save his life today, or at least the life of that new shirt." He drew his hands out from behind his back, holding an apron in each hand. "Mom, we felt this was appropriate for you," he said, as she unfolded the apron, which read: "Help Wanted". Ryan snickered and Seth turned to him and said, "Not so fast, my friend! We got this one for you. _I_ wanted to get the Batman logo one, 'cuz it was a lot cooler, but for some reason, _dad_ insisted on this one. I have no idea why," he finished airily, wearing his, "I'm so innocent I can barely stand myself" face and proffering the other apron.

"Oh, dear G-…_Seth_! There is no way I'm wearing this, like, _ever_!"

"What? What is it?" asked Kirsten, enthusiastically tying her new apron around her waist. "Let me see!"

Cheeks pink, Ryan turned the apron around so she could see the picture on the front. Snoopy, in all his glory, ecstatically engaged in his "Suppertime" dance.

"Oh, that's so cute! Seth, don't try to act like you didn't help choose this! You remember, you used to be obsessed with Snoopy. We had to take you three or four times every Chrismukkah to see "You're a good man, Charlie Brown". You dressed as Snoopy for Halloween three years in a row…you played that CD until I thought my head would explode!" Seth, who had been frantically making "cut" motions across his throat the whole time Kirsten had been talking finally said, "Mom, mom, mom…less talking, more cooking! I'm sure Ryan's not interested in my sordid past as a strange and lonely child with an active imagination."

Ryan raised his eyebrows and dead-panned, "Actually, I'm fascinated."

"No! No, You. Are. Not. Fascinated. You are Emeril, you are Jaime Oliver, you are Bobby Flay, but what you are not is fascinated…" Seth was rapidly backing out of the kitchen, waving his arms and making desperate, "don't even go there, dude" expressions at Ryan. He smirked in response, and then turned to Kirsten. "OK, you ready to get started?"

"Young man, we are not starting anything until you put that apron on. If I have to wear mine, you have to wear yours, deal?"

"Uh…couldn't you just take yours off?"

She put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "Or, I guess I could put mine on…"

Kirsten laughed again. She hadn't felt this free in a long time.


	2. Cooking Lessons, pt 2

"So, Ryan," Kirsten said, her voice a bit muffled from having her head stuck in the refrigerator, "you want to tell me what's going on with the whole Snoopy thing? You and Seth obviously have some sort of private joke about it." She turned towards the counter with her hands full of ingredients.

"Yeah, no...it's nothing really. Uh, let's just get started, OK? Here's a frying pan," he continued, handing it to her. Kirsten put down the butter, cheese and bread she'd been holding and took the frying pan, holding it up by the handle and looking at Ryan dubiously. "And, uh...the stove's over there."

Kirsten rolled her eyes. "Ha ha. Very funny, young man. You know, I think you may be spending too much time with Seth--his brand of humor seems to be rubbing off on you." She put the frying pan on the burner and hesitantly turned on the flame.

"No! Wait! You have to put the butter in the pan first and warm it up slowly until it melts. Otherwise the butter will burn."

"Oh! Ah...OK." Kirsten shut off the stove and turned to the kitchen island, her earlier feeling of freedom dissipating. "Listen, Ryan, are you sure you want to do this? It has the potential for tragedy, you know. There's a reason for our large collection of take-out menus. I mean, maybe I'm just not destined to be a cook." Ryan ducked his head, but not quickly enough to hide the disappointment in his eyes, and she suddenly found herself needing to explain. "I just...well, I'm a little uncomfortable with new things. It kind of scares me, to be honest." She said this last bit with a rueful laugh, trying to pretend that it wasn't so true. She wasn't used to sharing much of herself with anyone but Sandy. "I wasn't always like that, I guess. Maybe it's just the process of getting older. I feel like I get a little less courageous with every passing year. When I was your age, I seem to remember being...fearless..." She stared down at the counter.

"You took me in. You took that chance. That was pretty brave, I think. I mean, all you knew about me was that I helped my brother steal a car, burned down one of your houses and got Seth into a fight." Ryan said quietly, after a minute.

She looked up then, to find Ryan staring at her intently. "Yeah. And that was really scary."

"But you did it. What's a little grilled cheese compared to that?" He smiled hesitantly, hoping she wouldn't take his quip the wrong way.

She laughed then, a real laugh, and picked up the butter. "OK, Chef. How much?"

******************

When Sandy and Seth crept back into the house an hour later, they heard laughter coming from the kitchen. Sandy put his finger up to his lips as they peered around the corner from the hallway.

"OK, that first one looks a little..."

"Broken?"

"Well, spatula wielding is a fine art. The trick is to turn the whole thing over at once."

"Really? I thought my technique of stabbing at it until the top piece of bread slid off and the cheese got all over the pan was pretty good. I was improvising!"

"Uh, yeah...the others are at least identifiable as sandwiches, though."

"I'll give the first one to Sandy. It's a rule of married life that he at least has to _sound_ enthusiastic. Seth can have the last one; otherwise I'll never hear the end of it. It almost looks good enough to be in a magazine, don't you think?"

"_Grilled cheese monthly_?"

A giggle, and then, "Ryan, do you remember when I asked you what you wanted to be? And you said, '17', and I said 'me, too'?"

"Yeah."

"I meant fearless."

"So did I."

"I think this afternoon was a good start."

*******************************

Sandy and Seth entered the kitchen to find Ryan and Kirsten plating the sandwiches. "Hi guys! You're just in time! Sit down, and Chef Ryan and I will serve you." Kirsten held out her arm and Ryan draped a dishtowel over it like a maitre'd. Father and son exchanged amused glances as they took their places at the table.

"Well, the presentation certainly is...creative," Sandy said, staring down at the mess on his plate. At the same time, Seth took a bite of his sandwich and enthused, through the mouthful, "Hey mom, this is really good! Are you sure Ryan didn't make it?"

"Seth, don't talk with your mouth full, and I'm not going to dignify your question with an answer."

Swallowing, and switching the subject, Seth asked, "So, mom. Did Ryan tell you about Snoopy?"

"Why, no, he didn't." Kirsten caught the look Ryan threw Seth across the table. "What about Snoopy?"

Ignoring Ryan's Glare of Doom, Seth went on. "Marissa told me that Ryan played Snoopy in his middle school production of _You're a good man, Charlie Brown_. She even saw a picture!"

Sandy gave a snort into his water glass as Kirsten turned to Ryan. "Oh, honey, that is so _cute_. And I guess that explains the apron. I had no idea you were interested in theater. Do you think it's something you want to continue to pursue? Harbour has a wonderful drama program, if you're interested. They put on lots of different plays all year long to raise money for charity. I'd love to come see you in a show."

"I...I don't know. It was just that one show, really," Ryan mumbled, looking down at his plate.

"Sure, son! We'd all love to see you in a show," Sandy enthused. "Seth's not big on extracurricular activities."

"Hey, I've got _The Plank_!"

"And we read every issue, but you have to admit, even that is a recent development. Not that we aren't very proud."

****************************

Kirsten and Ryan were rinsing the plates, cups, and silverwear before putting them in the dishwasher. Ryan was silent, a little withdrawn, while Kirsten hummed softly under her breath. Simultaneously, they both realized what song she had been humming absentmindedly.

"I'm sorry, honey. Obviously the whole Snoopy thing is something you don't want to talk about."

"No...it's OK." And then, softly, "Fearless, huh?"

She smiled down at the plate in her hands. "Yeah."

"I can finish up here, if you want." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"OK. And Ryan? Thank you for my birthday present."

"You're welcome."

As she left the kitchen, she heard Ryan take a breath, and then quietly, so quietly she might have even imagined it, she heard his voice:

__

Bring on the soup dish, bring on the cup.

Bring on the bacon and fill me up.

'Cause it's supper

Supper, supper, suppertime.


End file.
